Chapter 5
Rhett
“Are you ready yet, Princess?” I call out from where I’m waiting in the living room.
In the years that we’ve been living here at Sunshine Farm, right next door to Bull Mountain Ranch, we’ve slowly but surely been renovating and expanding the house that used to belong to Cora’s late father.
It was both a want and a need, especially now that we have a family. Though my darling wife has a knack for coming up with random home improvement ideas at the drop of a hat, which means if I’m not working at the ranch, I’m here building something.
Though today is about giving her a Christmas memory she’ll never forget, I’m hoping it will also earn me the title of best Christmas date from the Sunday School Sallies. Especially since there’s nothing I love more than winning a trophy.
I’m also motivated to win the prize of a night away alone with my wife. We have young kids, which says it all, really.
When I managed to squeeze in time to think about what to do on our date, I decided I wanted to do it at home rather than traveling somewhere like Landry and Colt did for their wives. There’s also a bonus surprise I’ve got up my sleeve that I believe will make our date impossible to beat.
Then I called my mother-in-law in England and peppered her with questions to help me. To say I left that conversation with a bunch of ideas would be an understatement.
Which leads me back to now, waiting for my wife to come out for our afternoon date sans kids, who I dropped off to stay with Uncle Red and Aunt Mags till supper time.
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” she says, appearing at the end of the hallway looking ethereal in a white all-in-one snowsuit and matching white toque with a fluffy pompom on top.
Her bright blue eyes sparkle as she smiles at me, her excitement palpable.
“What do you think? Does the outfit fit our ‘date’?”
I push myself to my feet and stalk her way.
Cora’s gaze flashes when I stop barely an inch away, my hands sticking to my sides as a self-preservation measure.
I know if I touch her the way I want to touch her right now, there won’t be a date.
Hell, we won’t even make it anywhere but out bed.
But stripping her out of that snowsuit will be the highlight of my year…
"Rhett, that look says you’re rethinking our plans.
” She rests her hands on either side of my jaw, sweeping a thumb over my bearded cheek.
“And believe me, I love that train of thought…” She drags the pad of her finger over my bottom lip.
“I’m really looking forward to seeing what you’ve got planned for us since I’ve already heard what Mags, Star, and Lee got to do on their dates. ”
I sigh. “We knew you women would share stories.”
“Well, duh.” She grins. “How else would we know everything that goes on around this mountain?”
I give in to the need to kiss her, loving the moan that escapes her against my lips. “Let’s go then. Hopefully, I can still manage to surprise you.” Little does she know...
Looping her arms around my neck, she presses her body against mine. “I honestly don’t need any bells and whistles, or trips to wildlife centers. Just having a few hours of uninterrupted time with my handsome husband is enough of a gift for me.”
I jerk my head back and eye her skeptically. “Yeah, no. Princess, you forget that I know you. If there’s anyone who loves Christmas more than you, I’ve never met them. So, while we may not be leavin’ the farm today, that’s no to say I haven’t put a lot of effort into it.”
“Can’t wait,” she says, leaning in and placing a hard and fast kiss on my lips. “Though it is disappointing you don’t have a snowsuit on.” She drags one hand down my arm to squeeze my bicep. “Then I could be checking out my hot, mountain man husband all afternoon.”
Chuckling, I shake my head and step back, arching a brow her wya. “You sayin’ you won’t be checkin’ me out anyway?”
“Have you seen you? I’ve been doing that every day since we met,” she says with a cheeky grin.
“I know. Now stop tryin’ to sweet-talk me. We’ve got a meal waitin’.”
She stalls for a second, looking out the big kitchen window toward the back of the property which is covered in white with a light snow still falling from the sky. “Outside?”
“Yep. Trust me, princess. You know I’ll never let you down.”
“What did you do?” she asks as I lead her hand in hand through our orchard to the back of the property where the pergola I built her last Christmas sits. Except now, I’ve turned it into a hut of sorts with a heater, blankets, and the surprise she has no idea about.
“I told you we were havin’ a picnic.”
“Yeah, in the middle of winter in Alaska when nobody in their right mind should be outside in the elements, I know,” she says wryly. “That’s not what I’m talking about, Rhett. What’s that?”
I follow her gaze to where our dog Bruno is lying on the floor, looking as resigned to his fate as he did when I put the reindeer antlers on his head ten minutes ago.
Cora pins me with a questioning stare, but her twitching lips give her away. “What did he do to deserve being subjected to that?”
“He helped transport Duck Norris’s ducklin’s from the barn at Bull over to the bunkhouse where they decided to cause havoc and leave a mess, so this is his penance,” I answer honestly.
Her eyes grow comically wide before she covers her mouth and buries her face in my shoulder, laughing loudly. “Life definitely wouldn’t be as interestin’ without that duck in our lives.”
“I’d prefer borin’ to worryin’ about what mischief he’s goin’ to get up to next,” I mutter.
“Ah, well. How ‘bout we go keep Bruno company and hopefully cheer him up some by sneakin’ him some food,” she says.
A smirk curves my lips. “And you say I’m a bad influence.”
“I said no such thing,” she muses as she moves ahead, tugging my arm to follow.
Once we’re under the cover of the gazebo, she looks around the decorated canopy with fairy lights wrapped around the wooden poles and tinsel scattered around them.
“Wow. It’s like a private Christmas dinner, just for us. ”
“Yep.”
She bends down to ruffle the fur on top of the maremma’s head. “Hey, baby. You look very cute.”
Bruno lifts his head and groans. I swear he’d be cursing me out if he could.
Instead, he sighs and drops his head back to rest on his paws, the small silver bells on the brown toy antlers on his head jingling as he does.
I can’t help but chuckle at the look he shoots me.
It promises retribution of some sort. Knowing him, it’ll be an early wake-up or more waterbird-centered antics to deal with.
“What do we have here?” Cora asks, her fingers playing along the blanket I used to cover the food up with. It’s only been out here for ten minutes, but there are far too many animals with a penchant for thievery around these parts for my liking.
Coming up behind her, I rest my chin in the crook of her shoulder. “Why don’t you take a look, princess?”
When she lifts the blanket and gasps when she sees what’s there. “You made me a roast?”
“It is Sunday. We always have a roast dinner on Sundays.”
She puts enough space between us to face me, her gaze so soft and warm that I heat up from the inside out. “Yeah, but not like this.” She glances over at the table again. “You’ve even got the trimmings and everything. Are they yams?”
“Only the best for my princess. I know they’re your favorite.”
“And dessert... is that Christmas pudding?”
“Yep. Your grandma’s recipe. And let me tell you, I may have held back on the Brandy. I swear the instructions called for half a bottle!”
She giggles. “Yep. Mom always had to make sure us kids didn’t eat too much, she says as she looks over the table.
“Wait!” Leaning forward, she grabs one of the cans of imported beer.
“Oh my god, you did. You got me a dark ale. I love you. I love you. I love you,” she says.
Not to me, of course. She says it to the beer can, kissing it and everything. “It’s my favorite, too.”
I cross my arms over my chest, biting back a laugh. “Should I leave you two alone?”
“Nope. I’ll be good. I’m just… I think I might be speechless now,” she says, turning to me with glassy, smiling eyes. “Those Yorkshire puddings look amazing. Did you buy them from the store?”
I shake my head. “Nope. Made ‘em.”
“What? No way.” Her eyes narrow. “You’re telling me you can cook me Yorkshire puddings from scratch and I’m only finding this out now?”
“To be fair,” I say with a laugh. “Mags was directin’ me and it took about three goes to get it right. Then, while you and the kids were in town this mornin’, I managed to make it and not screw it up.”
“Yams, carrots, roast spuds. Aww, you even made parsnips even though you hate them,” she says. “My mouth’s watering already.”
“Then why are we sittin’ here just lookin’ at it, princess. Time to dig in.”
I put some music on, The Pogues singing their famous Christmas song Fairytale of New York before taking my seat next to my wife, grinning at her excitement as she dishes up our plates.
“I can’t believe you did all of this,” she says as we toast each other with our cans of dark ale. “It’s not often I get homesick anymore, but Christmas tugs at the heartstrings.”
“Well, considerin’ you’re just like your mom, and she goes all out for every holiday, I can imagine it was never dull at your house at Christmas.”
She shakes her head, moaning as she tastes the roast beef and gravy I made in the slow cooker this morning in the ranch house kitchen. One of the many benefits of living away from the ranch. The other being not having nosy brothers hanging around.
“This is so good, Rhett. Seriously,” she says, nodding in approval. “I think you should be in charge of all of the Christmas cooking from now on.”
“Princess, your roast pork with cracklin’ is the best thing I’ve ever tasted. There’s no way I can live without that in my life, so how ‘bout we trade year on, year off?”
Cora grins and holds out her arm, her smile widening when I shake her hand in agreement. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”
While we’re eating, we talk about all of the plans we’ve got for Christmas Eve and taking the kids to meet Santa–aka Gandalf dressed as Santa–in town for Spring Haven’s own Christmas Festival.
The Sunday School Sallies started it after the success of the Holly Jolly Cup a few years ago.
Now, hundreds of people from town and beyond come to visit and line the main street every Christmas Eve to wave at Santa, sing carols, and hang a decoration on the big old pine tree next to the tavern.
And every year, the night ends with everyone getting served hot cocoa from the Loaded Hog diner.
It’s become our ranch’s new Christmas tradition.
“I can’t eat anything else otherwise you’ll be rolling me back into the house after this,” Cora says, leaning back and rubbing her flat stomach.
I snort at her ridiculous comment. “Princess, I’ve seen you eat two helpin’s of roast and still find room for puddin’.”
She leans her cheek against the seat and smiles at me. “Look at you using British slang.”
“Huh?” I say, frowning.
“Pudding. A few years ago you would’ve said ‘dessert’.” She says it with an American accent, though there’s no missing the posh British sound of her words.
“I dunno,” I lean in and touch my fingertip to the end of her nose. “You must be rubbin’ off on me.”
Her gaze drops to my mouth, her voice rough. “I must be.”
Unfortunately–or maybe it’s lucky, because I was about a second away from delaying the rest of our date for other activities–that’s when I hear a car pulling up on the gravel driveway. I grin at Cora’s curious eyes as they drift over to meet mine. “Who’s that…?”
“That,” I say, moving to my feet and holding my hand out for my wife, “is your real Christmas surprise.”
“You mean this wasn’t it?”
“This was for us. The next surprise is all for you.”
“Is that why I had to wear this very unsexy snowsuit?” Her eyes widen. “We’ve got visitors and I’m wearing a snowsuit?” she whispers.
I make a point of looking her up and down, my hooded eyes hopefully telling her exactly what I think about her attire. “Yep. And you look gorgeous. There ain’t anythin’ you could wear that would ever be called unsexy. Now, let’s go. They’re waitin’.”
“They? Wha–” That’s when I hear an unmistakable saying, “Hellooo,” that Cora recognizes immediately.
“No way. No. You didn’t…” Her voice shakes as her eyes fill with tears, just as I turn her around to see her Mom and Stepfather walking toward us, holding hands with our twin sons, London and Lincoln.
“Surprise!”
It takes a good long while for my wife to stop crying and hugging her Mom. She’d only just accepted that we wouldn’t be seeing them for the holidays since they live back in England. So to say she’s over the moon about our visitors would be an understatement.
A while later, I stand behind Cora while we watch my in-laws build snowmen with the boys using rocks for eyes and a couple of stolen carrots for noses, along with clothes the boys grabbed from their drawers.
They’re going to look like the best-dressed snowmen in the district by the time they’re finished.
“Thank you,” she murmurs, her hands covering my arms wrapped around her waist. “This is up there with one of the best days I’ve ever had. We need to have more times just like this.”
“Like this?” I ask, nuzzling her neck.
“Makin’ memories. Life’s too short not to stop and smell the roses.”
I press my lips to the silky soft skin under her jaw. “We don’t have roses.”
She pats my arms playfully. “You know what I mean.”
“Yeah, princess. I do. Whatever you want, I will always wanna give you. And I will continue to do whatever is in my power to make you happy until I take my last breath. Even if that means makin’ homemade Yorkshire Puddin’s that take four batches to get right.”
That gets her attention. She turns around. “Four?”
I grip her hips and pull her body flush to mine. “Yep.” My grin widens. “Does that earn me bonus points?”
Her expression turns coy. “Maybe…”
“Hey, you two. Are you ready?” Cora’s mom calls out.
“Mommy, Mommy. Come on!” Lincoln says, running up to us and tugging on Cora’s sleeve. “It’s sleddin’ time.”
Cora’s eyes widen. “Sledding? Count me in.” She shoots me a sideways glance. “We’ll talk about those bonus points later.”
“Not gonna forget about them in a hurry.”
“Thank you, Rhett. This might just be the best Christmas yet.”
“And we’re only just gettin’ started, princess. Now let’s go. There’s a sled with our name on it.”